


A Statement of Love

by fictitiousLiterate



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depersonalization, Entity!Jon, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jon is the Archive in the beginning, M/M, No beta we kayak like Tim, Rated for Swears, Statement (sort of), Trans Martin Blackwood, brief monster!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousLiterate/pseuds/fictitiousLiterate
Summary: Martin loves Jon so hard he summons the Power of Love. Jon loves so hard he becomes Love.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Everyone, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 154





	A Statement of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on this Tumblr post https://pudding-gremlin.tumblr.com/post/625288798211850240/ugh-ok-i-have-thoughts-about-entityjon-but-they

The Archive sits in the Panopticon. It sits and it Knows and it tastes the fear and terror of every person in the world. A man walks in and it feels a distant, pleasant warmth connected to him. The man’s hands are covered in the blood of Jonah Magnus and the Archive can still taste the fear Magnus held for the End.

The man in front of it is also touched by the Eye and the Archive muses on how to tug him into becoming its Archivist. Again with that strange warmth.

“Jon,” the man says. “Jon, we did it. He’s gone.”

The name Jon means something to it. It was the Archive’s name once very recently. The way the man says it sparks that warmth again. It still doesn’t Know what that warmth is.

“You call me Jon,” it says slowly. “Why?”

It tastes the man’s fear.

“That’s your name, Jon,” the man says carefully.

“It _was_ my name once, yes,” the Archive replies.

“You’re not,” the man begins and halts. “You aren’t…”

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” it admits. Interesting how freely it gives information to this man.

“Then what…?”

“I am simply the Archive.”

A spike in the man’s fear, this time mingled with grief.

“Do you...do you know who I am?”

“Martin Blackwood,” a flash of warmth, “Archival Assistant. Although there isn’t an Archivist at the moment.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Martin replies. “ _Look at me. Tell me what you see._ ”

The Archive turns more eyes than are strictly necessary onto Martin. It can See all of his fear. The fear of his heart being torn in two. The scar tissue from the Corruption’s worms still tasting vague of fear, the grief-stricken tears welling up in his eyes, and the self-conscious way he wrings his hand together. Another flash of warmth. The scars over his ribs that taste more of relief than fear and something makes it linger in Martin’s relief. It’s the warmth; it knows that.

“I see a man afraid,” it says. Martin winces.

“This isn’t a statement or something, right?”

“If you are asking if you can “snap me out of it,” no.”

“Is there...is there a way for me to get Jon back?”

Martin sounds small and afraid. He’s taking the Archive’s hands in his own bloody ones. More warmth and the Archive holds Martin’s hands back.

“If you aren’t Jon why are you holding my hands?”

“I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all-knowing?”

Martin would make for such a good Archivist.

“Just because I know doesn’t mean I understand,” it replies. Martin lets out a watery sigh. His grief is bad, the Archive decides.

“You just said you don’t _know,”_ he says. “Not that you didn’t understand.”

“It makes me feel warm,” it replies. It’s sating Martin’s curiosity too quickly. No matter, it has eternity to make him it’s Archivist.

“Warm?” Martin repeats in confusion. “Are you cold?”

“Not warm in that way.”

“What way, then?”

“I...in my...It makes my heart feel warm.”

Martin is thinking. Multiple rapid-fire thoughts swirling around in his head and the warmth is back. Clever Martin had a plan.

“I’d like to make a statement,” he says finally.

“There’s no need,” it replies. “I already Know all of your fears.”

“It’s not...This isn’t a fear statement,” Martin clarifies.

“Go on then,” it urges. “Your voice makes me Warm.”

“Statement of Martin Blackwood regarding his love of Jonathan Sims. Statement given directly by subject in the Panopticon to the Archive.

Statement begins:

I’ve thought a lot about when exactly I fell in love with you, Jon. It was certainly after you let me sleep on your cot in the Archives. Er, for clarity when I say “The Archives” I mean the place, not the-the person. Anyway, it’s not like I just fell in love with the first person who was nice to me. Especially not after you were such an ass before that. You’re handsome, but no one is that handsome. I certainly _liked_ you more after that, though.

Tim” [more warmth but fainter and mixed with grief] “figured it out before he- before the Unknowing. I think the NotThem may have figured out that I at least had a crush on you while it was pretending to be Sasha.” [the expectation of warmth but clouded by the Stranger] “I think it was the little things, you know?

Like when you came to check on me my first night in the Archives. You didn’t knock. You called out from behind the door and you came in when I answer but you didn’t knock. When I asked why you told me it seemed like I’d had enough knocking. It sounds sort of pathetic to say out loud but you made me feel like my comfort _mattered._ Not many people did that in my life.

Or when you asked me if I was a ghost. I knew it was a glimpse into the real you. Not my stoic asshole boss pretending there was a reasonable explanation as to why a man in the middle of London was found encased in web but Jonathan Sims who was just as scared as I was.

I should have noticed when I started defending you to Tim” [warmth] “for stalking us that my feelings towards you were less than professional. I suppose I just thought I was worried about you. You know how prone I am to fuss. Sorry, you don’t like it when I get self-deprecating.

Anyway, when you needed me to call you an ambulance because you had allegedly stabbed yourself with a bread knife, _in your office while taking a statement._ I felt a bit justified in that worry. You probably wanted to avoid my worrying and that’s something I understood too well. Lunch with you became an excuse to just make sure you had eaten at first but it was so nice to spend time with you. To watch your eyes light up while you told me about the history of asbestos or violins.

I was terrified when you called me into your office about Trevor. When you mentioned the letter… The look of relief on your face when you found out I had just lied on my CV turned me to mush. Just a bit.

I think I knew after I got jealous of Basira.” [warmth mingled with shame] “She just told me she thought you were funny and I...it sounds so silly now to say that I was jealous someone else got your jokes when I didn’t. I honestly considered trying to convince her you didn’t date at all or didn’t date women or something because I thought _she_ might have a crush on you. _While you were wanted for murder!_

When you came back bandaged and bloody and scared with Daisy” [warmth and the feeling of being prey] “on your heels demanding answers from Elias I definitely loved you. I wanted to sit with you in your office and never leave I missed you so badly.

Melanie” [warmth and shame] “figured it out then, too. I just got so angry with everyone when you went missing. You were trying your best and Elias wasn’t helping and they were all being _useless._ I’m sure it was the Slaughter in her that made us so hell-bent on butting heads. I don’t know if Georgie” [warmth but distant] “told her or if she told Georgie” [warmth] “but they figured it out before either of us said anything.

I wished I told you before the Unknowing. I sort of kept imagining you coming back with Tim” [warmth] “looking like bad-ass action heroes with ash making you look all rugged and maybe...I don’t know kissing me? Pulling my face into yours by the collar and not stopping until one of us needed air. Or at least just saying it. Especially after I distracted Elias and just need to feel loved. _For once._

Instead, I got Basira,” [warmth] “Tim’s corpse,” [warmth] “no Daisy,” [warmth] “you all but brain dead, and Peter fucking Lukas to replace Elias. Elias told him about my feelings for you of course. He would call me whenever I visited you in the hospital because he knew that would be when I was most vulnerable to the Lonely.

I thought I could deal with being Lonely for everyone else’s sake after the Flesh attacked. I did for the most part. It was...you already know about it. When I heard you woke up I wanted to run to you so badly. When you came to me with the plan to quit it was…. It was nice, to feel like you needed me still.

You told me to look at you, in the Lonely. I was so sure I was already lost and then I saw you. Not the monster you think you are but Jonathan Sims who was afraid I didn’t love him back. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it when you pulled us out. I think you knew-at least I hoped you did- when I stubbornly refused to let go of your hand almost to the point of sleeping in our clothes at Daisy’s” [warm] “safe house.

I remember the first time I said it. Do you? It was the morning after we got to the safe house. I woke up to you tangled around me like an octopus with your hair falling out of its braid. I caught you staring at me and you tried to look away embarrassed but I caught your chin and whispered, “I love you, too.”” [warm, warm, too warm, impossibly warm, the warmth is good, so good, _it’s love he feels love, **love, Love**_ ]

Jon is floating. He feels suspended somewhere. It feels safe. Where ever he is he hears a man’s voice.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” his father says. Jon doesn’t remember his father but suddenly he does. He feels his father’s love and he feels his own impossibly tiny fingers try to wrap around one of his father’s. His father loved him with the little time they had together.

He remembers his mother kissing him on the cheek and smudging her lipstick. The lullaby she sang to him when she rocked him to sleep, another thing he thought he’d forgotten. The way she mussed his hair and told him to be good for his gran. His mother had loved him until the end.

He remembers his gran’s cat, Snowball. How she had sat on him and purred every night after the Mr. Spider incident. How he had been convinced as a child that she saw him as one of her kittens and how right he was. Snowball had loved him.

He remembers Georgie in uni. Laughing with her and falling for her. They had loved each other, just not the way they thought when they started dating. Georgie still loved him after he made a mess of things.

He remembers The Admiral. Who slept on his chest every night he spent at Georgie’s. How happy he was to see Jon. The Admiral loved him.

He remembers Tim when they were in research. He remembers getting dragged on stage at karaoke to duet some 80s pop song. How Tim had hammed it up. How fiercely Tim had hugged him. Tim had loved him but he didn’t forgive him.

He remembers Sasha. Real Sasha. With her long curly hair and her wire-framed glasses. How she dozed on his shoulder in the cab back to her flat after drinks. How she teased him when they came to work in the same cardigan. Sasha James loved him before the NotThem took her.

He remembers Melanie. How she wanted to still be friends. How alike they both were. Melanie loved him but she would never fully trust him.

He remembers Basira. How she _got_ his sense of humor. How she had just sat with him in silence on the way to Ny-Ålesund in a way that felt like understanding. Basira, despite it all, loved him.

He remembers Daisy. How she had sat and listened to him, wine drunk, pine for Martin. How she forced him to listen to _The Archers_ to distract from the call of the Dread Powers. Daisy gave in to the Hunt because she loved him.

He remembers Gerry Kaey. Their kinship and all the love that could be held between strangers.

He remembers teachers who were fond of him. Classmates who preferred him to others. Strangers on the train who loved him for his book choices or his clothing or some random thing about him.

Most of all he remembers Martin Blackwood. Who saw what a pedantic, prickly man he was and loved him anyway. Who watched the layers he built up over the years peel away to reveal the messy, scared man he was. How he had called Jon out for pretending. How hard he worked for Jon to look at him. How stubbornly Martin had stood by him while he pushed everyone else away. How Martin flavored his tea with love.

He remembers how much he loves all of them, too. Staring at a photo of his father and comparing eye shapes. Clinging to his mother as a child. Sobbing into Snowball’s fur. Cuddling Georgie. Petting the Admiral. Going to Tim and Sasha for help in a position he was so unprepared for. Exactly how he felt when Melanie said she still wanted to be friends. Listening to Basira talk about some books she was reading because he just needed a moment of something that wasn’t statements. Holding Daisy while she sobbed through the pain. Burning Gerry’s page no matter how much the Eye didn’t want him to. His favorite teachers and classmates. The love he felt for kindred spirits with similar taste in books or fashion.

He remembers looking into Martin’s eyes in the Lonely and letting him See. He remembers whispering love into Martin’s lips in the early Scottish morning to keep him away from the sight of fog. He remembers Martin sitting in front of the Panopticon and giving him a statement of Love.

Jon wakes up in Martin’s arms to the sound of Martin pleading with him to come back. Something feels different. He doesn’t feel all the fear in the world. What he _does_ feel is love. The way the Dread Powers are using people’s love against them. He feels Martin’s love for him and it satisfies him in the way fear never truly could.

“Martin,” Jon says softly, wrapping his arms around Martin.

“Jon,” Martin says. “Oh my god, Jon. You love me.”

“You knew that already,” Jon chuckles, confused.

“Yes but… I _feel it_ now. It’s...so much love I…” Martin tries to explain. There are tears in his eyes.

“It would be you,” Jon says. “To make good powers manifest.”

“Could we use them to…?”

“I believe so, yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then Jon and Martin reunited with their friends and defeated the Dread Powers with the power of Love and found family.
> 
> I'm @leighistired on Tumblr. Come say hi!


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